I’m as fired up as a wooden Indian outside a burning drugstore about last night’s big speech.

I’m as fired up as a wooden Indian outside a burning drugstore about last night’s big speech.

No, I’m not talking about the Teleprompter Kid. We all expected him to get up there and lecture us like a Berkeley professor, blame everybody else for everything — then to make things even worse. If he’d been speaking Mexican, I would’ve thought he was Castro!

What I can’t believe is the speech that little Republican fellow gave later. Johnny Mathis or whoever he is gets talked about as our future Commander in Chief, but after last night, I’m not sure.

What he said was really good if you read it. But he acted it out like a robot statue in that Disneyland Hall of Presidents. I half expected him to start sputtering and steaming half-way through like the bald bad guy in “Westworld”.

Bobby Jindal says he’s from Crapistan or one of those hellholes, but do we know that for sure? Maybe he’s really a Terminator from the future, except instead of laser beams, he can kill you just by talking. At least that Cheney robot we had for eight years didn’t go on TV and bore you to death, and that Romney one’s programmed to smile once in a while.

And shouldn’t Bobby Jindal have been back home last night anyway, supervising the annual Drunk Naked Folks Shooting Each Other Parade in New Orleans? Although I don’t see the difference between that day and any other in that Satanic cesspool!

Next time God decides it’s time to give the French Quarter another good long washing out, Bobby ought to volunteer to be a life raft. That boy’s so wooden, he probably floats! Good thing it wasn’t a fireside chat last night, or Bobby’d have burst into flames!